


All Tied Up

by shinysylver



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysylver/pseuds/shinysylver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is never doing this again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadynaiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadynaiad/gifts).



> I don’t own Hawaii Five-0.
> 
>  **Authors’ Note** This was written for a prompt at [](http://h50kinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile)[**h50kinkmeme**](http://h50kinkmeme.livejournal.com/). Here was the original prompt:
> 
>  **  
> _Danny/Steve bondage, humor  
>  in which Steve tries to give in to Danny's kinks, but it goes awry. (I'm saying bondage, but I'd love just about any kink going amusingly wrong.)_   
> **

“Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight,” Steve murmured. There were eighty-eight cracks on his bedroom ceiling. That probably wasn’t good. He should probably look into that.

He sighed heavily and shifted his legs as much as he could with the spreader bar. Now that he’d counted all the cracks he was bored again. This was worse than being a sniper because at least when he had to stay still for days at a time then, he wasn’t naked and handcuffed to a bed. And okay, that time he had to sit motionless in the mud for three days in the Colombian jungle might have been pretty miserable, but at least he hadn’t been promised orgasms and then abandoned. For heaven’s sake, Danny had been gone long enough that he’d lost his erection.

Danny had promised he’d be right back but that had been an hour ago. Steve wasn’t stupid, he knew that making someone wait was a common bondage practice. It was all a part of the obedience and the anticipation—or something—but he was starting to wonder if Danny had forgotten he was up here. Or even worse, that this was all some kind of cruel trick to pay him back for crashing the Camaro on Wednesday. It wasn’t like he’d had any choice. It was either crash into the mountain or go off of the cliff. It wasn’t even that bad really, it just needed a little front end work and it would be as good as new.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten into this mess in first place. He wasn’t into bondage and even if he were he certainly wouldn’t be the one tied up, but Danny had wanted to try it. He’d actually begged Steve to do it, and eventually when that didn’t work, he’d offered to give him road head. Danny knew Steve couldn’t resist road head, after all it combined his two favorite things: driving and blow jobs. Steve had been begging Danny to blow him while he was driving for months now but Danny claimed it was too dangerous and that as cops they had to set an example. Steve was pretty sure he’d just been holding out until he wanted something. And it worked.

Steve's stomach groaned loudly. He turned his head to look at the clock. Three o'clock. He'd missed lunch by two hours now. At this point he wasn't even sure that orgasms could make his afternoon okay. The snickers bar that he knew Danny kept tucked in the back of his underwear drawer in case of emergencies might make it better though. Too bad it was all the way across the room.

He pulled experimentally on the handcuffs. Danny had closed them tight, but not tight enough he couldn't undo them. He’d had a lot of experience getting out of handcuffs, and at least this time there wouldn't be any men with guns on the other side of the door. Of course if Danny came back and found him un-cuffed, eating his snickers bar the road head might be in jeopardy.

Danny couldn’t really expect Steve to wait all afternoon for him. Could he? Hours spent tied to a bed deserved a lot more compensation than a ten minute blow job, even if he was driving seventy miles an hour while receiving it.

Making up his mind, Steve inched up the bed until he was able to slide his fingers along the back of the headboard and retrieve the small lock pick he had taped there when Danny had first started talking wistfully about handcuffs. Steve might have been willing to indulge him but he certainly wasn’t going to let anybody, even his partner, handcuff him somewhere he couldn’t get free.

Once he had the small piece of metal he carefully twisted around until he could pick the lock. His hands were numb and his fingers fumbled awkwardly but he eventually managed to open one of the cuffs. As soon as he had one hand free, he lowered his arms and tried to get the blood flowing again.

That accomplished, Steve looked down at the spreader bar. It was tied to his legs by several lengths of rope. And not only was there a lot of rope but it looked like Danny had used every knot ever created to hold the bar in place., which—now that he thought about it—explained Danny’s sudden interest in his sailing books.

Steve sighed. It was going to take forever to untie them all. If only Danny hadn’t made him stop sleeping with a dagger under his pillow. Steve had tried to explain to Danny that you never knew when a sharp blade would come in handy but he hadn’t listened.

Instead, Danny had thrown a tantrum about household safety and how most accidental amputations could be avoided by not sleeping with sharp objects. Steve was pretty sure that he had been exaggerating but when Danny threatened to sleep in the guest room, he’d moved the dagger. After all, Danny sleeping in the guest room would significantly reduce his number of daily orgasms.

Steve looked longingly at the dresser. He’d moved the dagger to the back of his underwear drawer next to the snickers bar. Fat lot of good it did him there. Once he got out of this he was going to put it in the nightstand with his gun. His gun! Maybe he could use his gun to shoot through the ropes.

Steve had the nightstand drawer open before he realized that shooting in the general direction of his own legs was a pretty bad idea. He’d really hate to have to explain that bullet wound the paramedics. He could see the headline now:

 **Five-0 Head Shoots Self in Desperate Bid for Snickers Bar**

He took one last longing look at his gun, before closing the drawer and turning his attention to the knots. He had managed to get through one of them when he was startled by his phone ringing.

Steve looked up. _Of course_ he’d left his phone on the dresser. He was starting to think that everything good in his life was in or on that dresser. He considered letting the phone go to voicemail but it could be important. Things were a bit tense with the new Governor and he’d hate to miss the man’s call just because he was…otherwise engaged.

Steve heaved his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up. Standing was awkward at first because the bar forced his legs to stay several feet apart but he eventually managed get upright. Once he felt steady he began to awkwardly shuffle toward the dresser. Because the bar held his legs rigidly his movements resembled the waddle of an arthritic penguin—or at least his reflection in the dresser mirror was what he imagined an arthritic penguin would look like.

He so distracted watching himself in the mirror that he didn’t see the discarded cargo pants in front of him. As he shuffled forward, his foot snagged on the pants and he went tumbling down face first onto the floor, landing next to the dresser with a loud crash.

All Steve wanted to do was lay there and reevaluate his life choices but the phone was still ringing, so he grabbed a hold of the edge of the dresser and pulled himself up until he could reach the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Steven McGarrett?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Yes.” Steve answered suspiciously.

“Mr. McGarrett, I’m calling on behalf of the American Civil Liberties Union and we were hoping to talk to you about some of our recent political initiatives. “

Steve slid to the floor, leaned against the dresser, and banged his head against it in frustration. “I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for a response. That was perfect. Just perfect. He had almost killed himself for a telemarketer. And not just any telemarketer. Steve was pretty sure that the local ACLU chapter considered him public enemy number one. In fact, now that he thought about it the whole phone call was awfully suspicious.

“Steve?” Danny asked from the doorway, rousing Steve from his thoughts. “What happened?”

Steve glared up at Danny. “Where the hell have you been?”

Danny lowered his eyes sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Grace called and needed help with her homework.”

“I hope you realize that this is never happening again. Never,” Steve said rubbing at his aching knee. He must have hit it in the fall.

“Not even if I—“

“No,” Steve interrupted, not caring what Danny was going to offer. “Not even then. But you know what _is_ going to happen?”

“What?” Danny asked.

“You are going to take me out to dinner. You’re paying,” Steve answered. “And then we’re going for a long drive around the island. A very long drive. You owe me.”


End file.
